


6211

by shockfactor



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bonding, F/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) Spoilers, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:46:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28144812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shockfactor/pseuds/shockfactor
Summary: Follow the journey of CT-6211 , the 33rd Assault Division, and the 391st Special Operations Battalion as they navigate the Clone Wars alongside Jedi Master Pa Pha-Dosan and his Padawan, Aiean Kasis.A writing challenge, and a canon story with a bit of Legends flair. The challenge: Write a Star Wars story set in canon with completely original content- original battles, original characters, everything. This is the result, done in second-person POV just for fun.
Relationships: Original Clone Trooper Character(s)/Original Jedi Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Welcome, Little One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first steps into war.

Your name is CT-6211. It's the only name you've ever known. Your brothers haven't given you a nickname yet. Some of them have tried. They just... don't quite stick. 

Today is your final day of training. When this is over, you ship out. That is... if you pass. If you fail, you have another attempt, but you don't want to fail. That kind of rep sticks with you on assignment, from what you've heard from some of your elder brothers here on Kamino, the security teams. You're not going to fail. 

The team's leader, Shocker, has a plan, and as always, he's a calm presence, a firm hand on his team's shoulder, ready to force them ahead to conquer, to fight. Hog is ready for a fight, Z-6 revving and rearing to go. Tettar has his rifle and underbarrel droid-popper ready to fire. Zed has his Valken sighted and tuned for the perfect shot. Then, finally, there's you. You're no one special. You've got your Deece in your hand, and that's all you've got. A couple of droid poppers, your belt, and an iron will, or so you'd like to think. 

The exercise begins. 

The fire comes in hot, but you're ready. The plan is to spread out, with Zed hanging back in cover and picking off dangerous targets while the rest of you forge on, with him bringing up the rear. Your job is to make sure he doesn't get clipped in the back, and you do it well, taking out three clankers that the instructors pop up behind him. You're ready for them, and the rest of your team gets up to the turret wall quickly. Tettar fires, and the guns go down, but not before he's clipped in the shoulder. He's fine, not a fail. 

The grappling hooks go on. You climb the tower.

It's you who grabs the flag, not any of the others. You just happened to be the fastest today. Not that anyone cares. Your team is whooping and hollering, lifting you up on their shoulders as you join them, hoisting the flag high. 

You're a trooper now. 

* * *

When you and the team head back to the barracks, the instructor informs you that you're shipping out in the morning, and to say your goodbyes. The team is going their separate ways, most likely. 

Zed, for once, isn't so stoic, and looks near to tears as he embraces you.

"I love you, brother. Stay safe out there." 

"You too, Zed," you reply. "Scrap plenty of clankers for me." 

"You know it." 

You hear him telling one of the others that he's being billeted to the 212th. A hell of a position, but you think he can handle it. You hope he can, anyway.

Shocker is near silent, and the only reason you know he's going to the 41st Elite is because you heard the instructor tell him so. He packs his things and leaves with only hurried goodbyes. You won't miss him, but you don't hate him. He'll be a good Sergeant, you think. Probably could've been a Captain.

Hog is thrilled at his posting, even if it's one of the roughest of them all. He takes his spot in the Galactic Marines with pride, loudly proclaiming to all and sundry that he's going to crack some cans by the time the next cycle rolls around, and you can't help but love his enthusiasm. Time will tell if his Commander does. 

You and Tettar don't get your assignments yet. He's nervous about the whole thing, considers himself unremarkable, much like you do, but Tettar's got more heart than any other cadet you've met. He's more than worthy of being posted anywhere in the galaxy. You? Not so much.

"Where do you want to go, 11?" he asks you, out of the blue, as you lie sleepless in your bunks. You've thought about it quite a lot, but haven't really made a decision, mainly because it wasn't _your_ decision where you went. Still, you had preferences. 

"I wouldn't mind staying here," you admit. "Security force."

"Ah, come on, you won't get any fighting, then."

"Maybe that's how I like it, Tettar." 

You always disliked combat. It was a weird quirk of yours, one that you told few other troopers about, even when you were still young and barely knew it would be a problem. Now that you're grown, it's one you can't afford to have. There's not any _good_ places for a clone who doesn't want to fight. A clone who can't fight can do maintenance, or manufacturing, or janitorial. A clone who doesn't want to fight has something far worse wrong with him. You've seen that janitorial clone, 99, running around. He'd fight if he could. You wouldn't trade places with him, but you can't help but wonder why the malformed, mangled one has his head right, and you don't. 

Your sleep is fitful and restless, and you dream of war, fighting clankers on some jungle planet, losing brothers, losing everything. You don't want to go to war, but it was never your choice. 

One of the ARCs overseeing training pulls you and Tettar to the side after morning chow, green and white armor shining in the bright white Kaminoan floodlights. You think his name is Jolt, but you could be remembering wrong. 

"You're being deployed, troopers. Outfit yourselves and report to Hangar 25-B for boarding with the 33rd Assault. Good luck."

With that, Jolt is gone, no doubt to give similar news to other cadets. Tettar is beaming, shaking your shoulder and laughing like an idiot, until he realizes something that you, too, realize. 

"Who're the 33rd?"

"Rapid deployment division," you reply, doing your best to remember the less vaunted units. "Uh... usually stationed on worlds with heavy insurgent presence or imminent Separatist attack. I think."

"Right at the front of the action then, eh, 11?" Tettar asks, nudging your shoulder. "Man, I hope their armor's green. I love green."

"I think green'd suit you better than Shocker, Tettar." 

"Ha, yeah! I could definitely pull green off!" Tettar agrees, and the two of you head to the armory to retrieve your armor. You're shinies now, not cadets. Rookies, yes, but fully trained and lethal ones, ready to bring the fight to the Republic's enemies. Tettar might look alright in green, but there isn't a clone alive who doesn't wear their shiny whites well. It was part of the appeal.

Now kitted up, you smile from behind your helmet at Tettar, who you can tell by his body language is still giddy that this is happening, and that the two of you are going to be in the same unit. You came out of the same tank unit, in the same batch, and were placed on the same team, and you've been inseparable since you were knee-highs, despite being polar opposites. You wore your hair in a neat combover, he shaved his down to a fade. You said little unless it needed to be said, and he could never stop talking. You preferred carbines and pistols, he preferred his rifle. You hated war, and he loved the challenge. 

Fitting that the two of you would take your first steps into that fresh hell together. 

Hangar 25-B is packed, even though you're early, and the first thing you hear is a disappointed groan from Tettar. Indeed, they're not green. Their color is a metallic, grayish-blue, and they wear it sparingly, coloring the chest, shoulders, and a stripe on the helmet, if even that much. Many of the men waiting for the new passengers are just as shiny as you. In front of them stands what must be their Commander, seemingly ten feet tall in spite of being 1.83 meters tall, the same as you. His armor is more ornate, with the traditional _kama_ and pauldron of command, and a more ornate design to his helm, a zig-zagging shape almost like a double _y_ _irt_ on the dome, color on the reinforced plate on the visor, and a small splash of color covering the mouthpiece. His chestplate under the pauldron also bears a similar zigzag design, only more broad, and his legs bear long stripes going down to the knee, then branching on either side of the calf. 

You step into the forming formation in front of the Commander, and an ARF trooper with a scattering of gray-blue lines crossing his armor steps next to him, adjusting his helm subtly, and another, bearing the markings of a Captain by the chit on his chest, folds his arms behind his back, exposing his similar markings to the Commander, save for his helm, which bears a heavier coat of paint around the jaw and dome, with intricate designs that frame the visor, which is left untouched, instead meant to be covered by his completely-painted macrobinocs. Said Captain's looking at you, now, expression unreadable behind his helmet as he jerks his head towards the slowly gathering formation in front of him. You comply wordlessly, Tettar right behind you as you both fall in line and the room begins to fill, until there's practically a whole company of new troopers behind you. Something tells you this unit has a high casualty rate. 

"Troopers," the Commander begins, as the ARF trooper looks over his shoulder at something aboard the shuttle behind them. "As of today, you are soldiers of the 33rd Rapid Assault Division, and will be answering to my command. I am CC-7729 'Ricochet', but to you, it's 'Commander'. On my left is Sergeant Shades, and on my right is Captain Zare. You'll answer to us from this point forward. Understood?"   
  
"Sir, yes, sir!" comes the chorus from the formation. You're a bit quieter than the other clones, at least you think so. 

"Furthermore, you will be serving under Jedi General Pha-Dosan and Commander Aean Kasis. If they tell you to jump, you jump. They're the only authority you have higher than me. Understood?"  
  
"Sir, yes, sir!"   
  
"Good to hear, troopers. Embark and await further orders. We'll be aboard the Venator-class _Brassbound_ from this point forward, consider it your new home. We're in it for the duration, brothers, so I suggest you learn to love it."   
  
With that, the Commander turns, and boards the shuttle, and the rest of the clones shortly follow. There aren't many others already in the unit that follow him- probably a compliment sent just to ensure security, even if nothing particularly bad ever happens on Kamino. As you and Tettar are in the first line, and the Captain's running a pretty tight operation, you board quickly. Shades passes you both as you're seated, and gives you a clap on the shoulder. You don't know why he specifically singles you out.  
  
"Sir," you greet him.   
  
"Look nervous, kid," he replies, before motioning to Tettar. "You both do. Designation?"

"CT-6211, sir."

"CT-0417! Boys call me Tettar, sir." Tettar replies, drawing a chuckle from Shades.

"0416," he says, motioning to Tettar. "Can tell you boys and I are gonna get along just fine. You're in my squad, you and another rook on board. I'll show you where we're squared when we board. Don't worry, you'll fit in. Squad needs new blood anyhow."

Needs new blood, indeed. Three replacements for one squad. Not a good sign. 

"Thank you, sir," you reply, offering him a nod, and he finally releases your shoulder. 

"Chin up, soldier. You were born for this." With that, he's gone. Tettar likely notices your melancholy, but doesn't comment on it. You lean your head back in your seat, and try to think of anything but how the three troopers before you died. 

* * *

Boarding the ship isn't exactly a smooth process, because it's on alert. Considering you're in friendly territory, that can only mean one thing.

You're already deploying.

"Not even a cycle aboard and we're already deploying, 11!" Tettar exclaims. "What are the chances, eh?"

"What are the chances indeed..." you mutter. Shades finds you before long, and motions for you to follow him. You do so, passing by what you think is a couple of Special Operations troopers on your way, but you don't have time to get a good look. All you know is that things are going to get ugly, soon. Really ugly. 

You don't even get the chance to go to your bunkroom, as Shades brings you straight to the armory, where some other clones are already waiting in another corner of the room- the rest of the squad, you wager, from how they look at Shades. One of them is shiny, just like you, but he already seems to have built a rapport with another trooper, one with blue shoulder, chest, and knee plates, and a helmet with three blue claw marks dragging down the side of his face, cutting through what appears to be the standard 'T-Visor' color pattern the other troopers use. 

"Alright, squad, these are the other two shinies," Shades informs them. "Tettar and 6211. You two, this is the rest of the squad. Other shiny is 0606, one with the pretty little scratches is Klaw, he's our resident expert marksman."   
  
Two more troopers with identical appearances, but mirrored, introduce themselves next, one having a trio of arrows going up on the left side of his dome, the other three going down on his left. The former answers for them. "I'm Tai, this is Verge." 

Verge nods, before looking to the clone next to him, who hefts a Z-6 onto his shoulder. "I'm Jax," he says. Jax looks relatively unremarkable compared to his brothers, wearing what you assume is the standard colors with only a single white line in the center of his chest to distinguish him. He's not particularly talkative, either.

Finally, the two remaining members of the squad introduce themselves. While one also bears a generic, unremarkable paint scheme, the other's helmet bore four numbers- '3288'. 

"I'm Syke," the generic one replies, and points to the one with the numbers on his head. "That's Reed. He's a bit cross, don't mind him." 

Reed just... stares at you through his visor. It makes you uncomfortable, but you don't say anything. Neither does he. 

"With that out the way," Shades says, stepping forward, "we're going boots down with Terek Squad. Seppies have an entrenched droid foundry on Akiva and are threatening neutral settlements in the systems surrounding, and we're being ordered to knock 'em out. Neutrality doesn't mean a lick when someone's pointing a hot blaster at your head, after all. Along with the rest of Blue Company, we're going to be landing near the approximate location of the factory, and working from there. We have no idea where the factory is outside of general location we've gathered from transport movements. There are other divisions in support, but it's our mission to slip through the Seppie blockade while our boys in space keep them busy. Once find the factory..."   
  
He claps his hands for emphasis. "Boom. Special Operations will be hitting the ground first with the Jedi and finding that factory. They'll send the coordinates, then, that's where we come in. Make sense, boys?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" You reply, just like everyone else. Shades seems satisfied, and motions for you to follow him. You're probably loading up in the larty. 

You could die today. As the rest of the squad moves out, you stop, and realize that you could, in fact, die today. There's something wrong with you, because that fact scares you. 

You shake your head and forge on. There's nothing else to do. 


	2. War Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first taste of combat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helo, I am using Legends locations and battles because canon is good, but also leaves little room for me to write my own story involving a clone boi so i'm just doing anything that won't contradict canon.

By the time you're loaded onto the larty, you're clenching your fists. One on your Deece, the other on the overhead hangbar of the gunship, because you know if you don't your brothers will see your hands shaking.

Your squad knew you dreaded this moment back on Kamino, or at least, you think they did, based on how they talked to you, how they treated you. You think the instructors may have caught on, too. You can't let this new squad, this new unit, these new Jedi know. You'd be worse than useless to them. Cast off. A burden. 

Besides, it's just clankers. You can kill clankers. There's nothing wrong with killing a clanker. Now, if they had you shooting sentients, it'd be a different story, but a droid's a droid. You don't forsee any issue with pulling the trigger on a droid. It's more the cost of war that frightens you. 

The gunship closes up, the seals activate, and now, you're surrounded by red light. The ship made the jump to hyperspace while you were loading up, and now you're in low orbit of Akiva, right outside the atmosphere. The gunships are small enough to avoid detection in upper atmosphere, but as you close in, you'll get spotted. All the more reason to make this quick. There's some chatter between the pilot and co-pilot, and then, the shift. You're officially airborne for the first time in your life. It's every bit as daunting as you thought it would be, but you adjust quickly, especially because you have the bar in your hand. 

Next to you is Tettar, who hasn't said a word since you entered the gunship, mainly because when he started to talk, Reed told him to shut up. Behind you is the aforementioned Reed, and you can feel him staring holes into the back of your head. In front of you is one of the men from Terek squad, a trooper named Knievel by your short introductions. He has a macro, white with a single blue streak over his left eye, and the way he's looking at you unnerves you almost as much as Reed does. At least he was cordial when you were introduced.

At the front of the gunship's bay, Ricochet stands. Zare is in one of the other four larties necessary to carry a whole company of troopers, and supposedly there was a fifth carrying the Special Operations team and the Jedi that had already gone ahead of you. You have names for them. Pha-Dosan and Kasis. You've never heard either of those names before, they're most certainly not the Windus and Yodas of the Jedi Order, but you at least hope they give a kriff about you. You've been told from as long ago as you can remember that there are countless thousands of others just like you. In so few words, they've called you replaceable, and no doubt the Kaminoans see you that way. But you don't see it that way, and from what you've heard from some of your older brothers, the Jedi don't either. 

Ricochet puts his hand up to his helmet, and nods, before looking back at the two squads behind him. "Alright, troopers. We've got coordinates for the droid foundry. We're going in fast and hot, so when those doors open, get ready for a firefight. We're going to do a strafing pass to try and take out their defensive installations, but there's no guarantee we'll clear it all. We loiter too long and we'll get shot out of the sky. Check your targets, Special Ops is already on the ground." 

"Sir, yes, sir!" 

Your grip on your blaster tightens, and you grit your teeth. It's time. You're going to fight. There's no guarantee anyone on this gunship, including you, is making it out alive, and that frightens you, but you bite it down, swallow the fear, try everything in your power to beat it into submission until it's just a small whisper in the back of your head. 

_I could die today_ , you tell yourself, _but I won't._

That has to be good enough. 

"1st Platoon," Ricochet continues, "our job is to link up with the Jedi and Special Operations and storm the facility. Get any schematics that look out of the ordinary, take out any production lines you find, then, we blow the place and exfil. Ideally, we find manifests of where they've been sending their clankers, but if not, there's no need to worry. We have a... _backup plan_ , of a sort. I'll let the Commander explain, if it comes to that."

A sudden detonation rocks the larty, and the only reason you don't fall is because you've got the bar in a death grip.

"The Sith Hell was that, Cutter!?" Ricochet shouts, looking back at the cockpit. 

"Flak, sir! And thick! They must be hiding AA in the jungle!" 

"Nose down, get us in fast! Spread the gunships out!"

"Roger, sir, Cobalt 2's lost a wing and going down!"

"Kriff! Locator beacon on their projected landing trajectory." 

"Sir! Diver's gonna try and bring her down gently at Grid Jenth-two-three-four-nine." 

"Welcome to the shit, shiny," Knievel growls, tightening his own grip on the bar. "It only gets worse from here." He says it almost like that's the best part of it, and you shudder in spite of yourself. As if to protect you from mockery, the gunship dives almost straight down, sending most of the clones aboard stumbling for purchase. 

" _Cutteeeeeer_!?" Ricochet screams.

"You said 'fast', Commander, and you're _getting **fast**_." 

"We're all gonna die!" Tettar cries, his entire arm curled around the bar and holding on for dear life, his swinging legs kicking the clone in front of him in the back of the head.

"Hold on, troopers!" Shades shouts over the clattering of plasteel armor and creaking durasteel plate. "We're gonna make it!" 

"Man, I'd hate to be the ball gunner right about now!" Syke says, seemingly _enjoying_ this hellish dive, or at least pretending to. 

_'Oh, I bet you would'!_ one of the ball gunners replies, on the open comms channel. You can't help it. You laugh, long and loud, and you hear Syke joining in with you. 

"Glad you find this funny, 11!" Tettar shrieks, "but we're heading straight for the _GROUND_!" 

"No, we're not!" Cutter calls back from the cockpit. "Hold on! Bottoming out, prepping for strafing run!" 

The gunship _lurches_ , slowly but steadily, and soon everyone is finding their footing once more, albeit with G's smacking into their helmets strong enough to make your eyes water and your vision ring with black. Through the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears you hear missiles, cannons, and beam projectors opening up at once, and as you regain your bearings you're nearly thrown off them again by a heavy flak shot that nearly punches through the door next to you. 

"Kriff!" you shout in spite of yourself.

"Wounded?" Knievel asks.

"No, sir!" you reply.

He just chuckles lowly, barely audible above the roar of laser fire that surrounds you now. 

"You asked for some angels, General?" Ricochet shouts over the racket into his commlink, still as stoic as ever. "Blue Company, deploy, deploy, deploy!" 

"Swinging around, doors opening! Good luck, troopers!" Cutter adds, just as the red light your eyes have grown accustomed to becomes a vibrant, almost blinding green. The door next to you begins to creak and shift, slowly sliding past you to reveal the lush jungle of Akiva. The sky above you is filled with the shape of cruisers, frigates, and Star Destroyers slugging it out in atmosphere, and the air around you is filled with shrapnel and blaster fire. You watch as the beam gunner on your side of the ship takes aim, the green energy lance slicing into the ground and dragging until it hits a dwarf spider droid that you swear was looking right at you, sending it up in a ball of flame. You're circling what appears to be the entrance to the foundry, the ground coming closer and closer with each passing second, and then, you see him.

A hulking brute, like if you gave a Sabertank legs, arms and a lightsaber. His face is concealed by some sort of helmet, and his arms, chest, and thighs are covered in armor, with flowing grey robes between the plates. His lightsaber is, even at this distance, massive, probably almost as long as you are tall. He bats aside blaster fire as if he's swatting at flies. Behind him, there's another Jedi, in what appears to be clone armor, complete with a helmet, with a blade that appears to be two in one, bright purple with a long haft, swung with precision and economy of motion that was almost artlike in its simplicity. Behind them, Special Operations clones, their dome-like helms visible even from the air, with one bearing a pair of antennae on his helmet and the kama and pauldron of command, twirling and ducking between the Jedi like a dancer. You almost don't believe he's a clone. 

"Go, go, go!" Ricochet shouts, and only now do you realize you're low enough to the ground to jump. You ready your blaster, and draw your attention to the source of the fire, the droid line at the entrance to the foundry. Just in time. A bolt barely misses your head, flying between you and Knievel, just past Tettar, and out the other side. 

You almost died. 

You throw yourself out of the gunship like a man possessed, and it takes less than a second for you to hit the ground. Your armor absorbs the shock, and you're quick to lift your Deece and take aim, lining up a B1 in your sights and firing three bolts, all of which strike home. Your first kill. You hear your brothers landing behind you, and it occurs to you that you were the first one out of the gunship. You never thought you'd be that bold, but combat is a hell of a drug. Your reservations are gone. Your worries about war are gone. All that matters is survival now. 

"Get out of the open, troopers, cover, cover!" Shades orders from somewhere behind you, and you obey. You see what appears to be a comms array, with a few durasteel crates nearby, and that looks as good of cover as any. You sprint as fast as your legs can carry you, your boots pounding into the dirt and durasteel of the foundry's landing pad, red and blue laser whizzing past your head, some shots coming close enough that if you even twitch, you've got a new hole in your head. 

You launch yourself at the crates shoulder first, desperate to get out of the line of fire, and turn your body so that your back takes the impact. You turn just in time to see Knievel take a bolt to the faceplate, a hole in his T-Visor glowing a deathly orange as his feet fly out from under him. Tettar, next to him, is shaken, and you can't help but call out to your brother, because you're afraid he's going to seize up and get himself killed.

"Tettar!" you shout, far more desperate than you intended to, and he hears you, turning his head and running at you like the Sith are on his heels. Verge and Tai are right behind him, and no sooner has Tettar all but slammed against the comm tower than do the other two clones join you behind the crates, the two more experienced troopers bracing their weapons on the crates and picking their targets with practiced skill. You take a deep breath, looking over at the Jedi and Special Operations troopers, who seem to be trying to draw the fire of the heavier Separatist weapons so that you can take them out. 

They need you. Your brothers need you. You have to keep it together.

You could die today.

But you won't. 

You pull a thermal off your belt, and pop up from behind cover, looking for a target as you prime the grenade. You see one- a OOM command model manning a heavy turret that's bearing down on 2nd Platoon's gunship. You throw the detonator with all your might, and it lands just short of the mark, before bouncing right under the turret's tripod.

"Good throw, rookie!" Verge calls over the roar of battle, before grabbing your shoulder and pulling you back down. "Keep your head on, you're doing great!"

Ricochet's voice crackles over the comms. " _Move up! Move up! Don't get pinned down!"_

"You heard the man, troopers, let's go!" Tai says, pulling himself to his feet and vaulting over the crates. Just as you look over the crates to do the same, your detonator explodes, the turret flying off its bearings in a burning heap of slag and the droid manning it all but vaporized. You can't help but notice the droid fire is starting to lose its accuracy. Less shots are whizzing by your head now, most of them flying wide of hitting anyone. "Sarge, we're pushing up!"

 _"Right behind you, troopers!_ " Shades replies. _"Flank their line!"_

The hole you created in the droids' defensive line has yet to be filled, and it seems Tai is banking on that. He's fast, but somehow, you're even faster. You pass Tettar, then Verge, then Tai, without even realizing that you're outrunning them. It's just a hazy realization in the back of your mind. You can't aim accurately at this speed, but you don't need to. The droids are starting to notice you, but their targeting algorithms haven't reset from the loss of their commander. They miss you by astronomical miles, and while your shots are only slightly better, they're just that. Better. Two B1's fall to your fire, and a third takes a bolt from you, then another from afar. You clear the droid line and do a quick double take, trying to figure out which way to go. Left, right, you don't know, there's droids everywhere and the element of surprise can only take you so far. 

You take left, and as you duck behind a Seppie barricade and lean over the lip of it to start shooting at the droids, you hear a Z-6 rev up behind you and you swear you hear Jax laughing like a Kowakian Monkey-Lizard as you watch a cascade of blue wash over the droids in front of you.

_"Commander, Aurek squad is behind enemy lines!"_

_"Excellent work, Shades! Push up, troopers!"_

Soon, Klaw joins you behind the barricade, picking his targets skillfully, even punching a hole clean through the eye of a Super right as it starts looking at you. Within a few minutes, the line is clear of all but stragglers, and the Jedi and Special Ops have already broken through, so it doesn't take long to mop them up. You do what you can, but with the carving through the droids so skillfully, you're only able to land one more clean kill on a B1. Still, four and a half on your first day isn't the worst performance. 

When the fire dies down, it all comes at you at once. What you just did, what you've been through, what you've seen. You look back and see at least a dozen dead clones, maybe more, and one of the landed gunships' ball turret is filled with smoke and shattered at the bottom, leaving very little hope for the gunner. 

Your arms feel like jelly, and you lower your blaster as you look for familiar designs. You saw Knievel go down, and the clone that Tettar kicked on the way down is in a medic's arms, being loaded onto a grav gurney. There's a hole in the right side of his chest plate, and another trooper is holding his hand in a death grip, shouting something at the medic as they load him up. You can't hear it. You can't really hear anything. You're just... here. Wherever _here_ is.

" **Rookie!** "

You blink, and there's a hand on your shoulder. Out of the corner of your vision, you see Klaw staring at you, and feel a firm shake. "You hit your head?"

"N-no," you reply, "I-I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up."

Klaw nods, and crooks his arm around you, turning you back towards the entrance of the foundry. "Come on."

You nod, and allow him to give you a little push forward. It's all you need. You keep your blaster down, but you're back in the game. You look down at your chestplate. Still mostly shiny, but you can see your knee-pads are scuffed, dirty, same with everything below them. 

You're not a shiny anymore. 

You link up with the rest of your squad at the entrance, just in time for Shades and the Sergeant from Terek squad to link up with Ricochet, who's linking up with the Jedi, who a bit of eavesdropping reveals is General Pha-Dosan. He's bigger than he looked- he towers over you, makes you feel as tiny as you probably look next to him, broad as a freighter and built like a tank. His lightsaber's hilt is probably as big around as your leg. Yet, as he speaks to Ricochet, his voice is... _gentle. Soothing._

"How many remain, Commander?" he asks.

"Cobalt 2 went down a few klicks to the southeast, sir, but we received word that they're mostly intact and moving on foot to our location. Terek and Vau squads took some casualties, and Skandor squad is completely wiped. Total casualties... twenty-nine troopers, plus Cobalt 2's co-pilot."

"Thirty," Terek squad's sergeant, who you didn't catch a name for, corrects him. "Slice didn't make it." 

Ricochet doesn't react, but Pha-Dosan lets out a low, breathy sigh, before turning to look directly at you. You can't see his face under that helmet he has on, you don't even know what species he is. He could crush you with his hands, let alone the Force, yet he seems... gentle. You feel secure around him, like you're going to be okay. It's like a wave of cool water running over you, grounding you, keeping you in the moment. Ricochet's looking at you too, now, but he doesn't say anything before looking instead to Shades. 

"How's Aurek?"

"Fit for fighting, Commander," Shades replies. "We're ready to continue."

"Right," Ricochet replies, before turning to look at the approaching Captain Zare. "Zare, take Vau and Pare squads, await Cobalt 2's arrival and form a perimeter, hold position until we get what we need and set the charges. Shades, Lance, Aurek and Terek are with me. Grab Fi squad and follow the General and the Commander into the facility. Special Ops and the Commander will set the charges, you make sure they don't get blasted in the process." 

"Sir, yes, sir!" 

With that, Shades motions to 'Lance', as you now know the Terek Sergeant to be. "Lance, go get your boys." 

"What's left of 'em." With that, Lance is gone, and Shades looks to you and Tettar, who you just realized is next to you. You're not sure when he got there. 

"Good, rookies?"

"Yes, sir," you reply.

"Bit rattled, but I'm ready to go," Tettar adds. "H-how's the squad?" 

"All good," 0606 replies, the first time you've heard him talk since you've met. He sounds youthful, almost younger than you and Tettar, even though you're dead certain you're from the same batch, if not the same tank. "None of us were hit."

"Yep," Jax agrees from behind you. "Not through lack of trying- did you see 6211?" 

"Sithspit, kid, you're one skittery little womp rat," Klaw agreed. 

"Yeah, 6211's always been in a rush," Tettar jokes, punching you in the shoulder. 

"In a rush, eh?" Shades repeats, folding his arms. You can hear his smile in his voice. "Well, then, you all better catch up with him and get your headlamps on. It's likely the Seps cut the power, we're not getting any sort of signals from inside the foundry. We move on the General's order." 

"Yes, sir!"

While the rest of your team is mounting their headlamps, you take yours off your belt, and find yourself looking at the Special Operations troopers. You assume the armored Jedi is Aeian Kasis, but you can't make out anything about them, other than that they're slimmer than a clone. A brown-gray cloak is pinned to the shoulders and hips of the armor, with the armor itself stark white, just like yours, if a bit more banged up. The troopers around her are all Special Ops, and their Commander, who you saw earlier, is holding a holoprojector up, no doubt explaining the layout of the facility or something of the sort. 

He catches you watching him. 

You expect to be chewed out or at least called attention to, but he merely pauses his statement, nods, and returns to speaking with Commander Kasis. His men don't even acknowledge you, nor does the Jedi. 

"That's Vision," Shades explains behind you, startling you into fumbling with your lamps and rushing to screw them in. "He's pretty alright for a Spec Ops clone. His team can be a bit much, though. They follow Commander Kasis everywhere. Been working together since I've been in the unit, and I've been in since the early stretches of the war." 

You nod, securing your headlamps before taking one last look at the group. They move towards General Pha-Dosan, Commander Kasis grabbing his attention and jerking their head towards the facility.

"We move, troopers," Pha-Dosan states, voice low and rumbling. "Be cautious. There may be droids in the facility yet." 

* * *

The interior of the facility, indeed, is very, _very_ dark. There are some emergency lights that cast the rooms in a dim blue, but other than that, blackness. Aurek's on point, with the commandos in the center with the two Jedi, and Terek bringing up the rear. You feel bad for Terek. You got a look at them on the way in, and heard a bit from Shades. Lance is an old clone, one of the first batchers, and he's lost a lot of brothers. It's taken a heavy toll on him, and today, he lost almost half his squad. 

You wonder if he wishes he'd died with them, left the burden of leadership to someone else, but you stamp that down quick. 

"Awful quiet in here..." one of the Spec Ops troopers states. 

"Now you've gone and jinxed it, Cracker," another replied. "Next you're gonna say you have a ' _bad feeling_ ' about this." 

"But Shard, I-"

"Ah-ah-ah, no sir, no _sir_." 

"Cut the chatter, Spec-Ops," Vision orders sternly. "Aurek, any signs?"

"Nothin'," you reply. "Haven't seen a single clanker since we came in." 

"You think they abandoned the facility?" Tettar asked. "Defenses were tough, but they didn't make any attempt to retreat into the facility."

"Droids don't retreat," Shades said, "they regroup."

"Then why didn't they regroup inside a more defensible position?" Reed countered. "Makes no sense."

"Nothing in this war makes any kriffing sense," Klaw muttered under his breath, adjusting his macrobinoculars. "Scans aren't showing any droid activity in the facility."

"Should we split up?" Lance asked, "search for signs?" 

"Negative, stick together," Ricochet replied. "At least for now. Let's move to the foundry floor and see if we get any idea of where things are."

"Right..."

The journey continued, lit only by the emergency lighting of the foundry floor and the lamps on you and your brothers' helmets. Look as you may, there's not a single clanker anywhere in sight, and that scares you far more than it should. You should be thankful that there aren't any more droids, that the fighting's done for the day.

The foundry floor is just as empty as the rest of the facility, and it's only when you reach the transport bay that you find anything interesting. The hangar doors are open, and lead to tunnels, not open-air facilities.

A tram station. 

"Well, sithspit," Ricochet grumbles. "They must have packed up in a hurry, left as soon as they knew we'd found 'em."

"Where do you think the tram leads?" you ask.

"Another facility, maybe," Aiean replies, speaking for the first time in your presence. She's a woman, it sounds like, but a stern one. Martial in her speech and bearing. The kind of Jedi a clone would want to serve under. "We didn't pass any hangars on the way here, didn't we?" 

"No, ma'am," Vision replied. "But, if they left when we made contact, then they're likely long gone. Those transports could be anywhere, and this is a big facility. The schematics show storage alone could fit at least a sector army's worth of clankers, and they're all _gone_." 

"Well, they can't have just disappeared into thin air," Lance said. "What now?"

"Master," Aiean interrupts, looking to the General. "I saw something on our way down. A droid control ship, in orbit. Maybe..."

"Yes, my Padawan... I see your reasoning." Master Pha-Dosan placed a massive hand on his chin, and looked to Ricochet. "Ricochet. Have any Separatist ships attempted to break the line?"

"Not yet, sir."

"Inform all ships to be on the lookout for rogue Separatist ships that could be attempting to flee the engagement or approach that control ship. For now, I want us to return to the _Brassbound._ I have a plan." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pha-Dosan is an Elnacon (the big ammonia-breather bois from Solo)


End file.
